


i'm coming up for air

by orphan_account



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Coffee Shops, Gender Neutral Main Character, Multi, Reader has fucked up past, Reader is mentally ill, Slow Burn, background alphys/undyne - Freeform, puns
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-29
Updated: 2016-02-22
Packaged: 2018-05-10 07:26:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5576644
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You have three things: A routine, a big heart, and a secret.</p><p>You never wanted to hurt anybody, but by the time you found out, it was too late. But that's the past.</p><p>Now, you're just trying to live with yourself.</p><p> </p><p>(Or, the one where Reader works at a coffee shop and is surprisingly domestic with their new monster buddies. After an agonizingly slow burn, of course.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. the one where you meet new friends

**Author's Note:**

> This is the beginning of a new adventure.
> 
> Considering the length of the second chapter, this one's pretty short. Sorry about that.
> 
> No smut in this one. Or any one I write, for that matter.
> 
> Oh: and italicized paragraphs are flashbacks. I think that's it.
> 
> follow me on tumblr: jonnedsnow
> 
> (i didnt mean to be skeleton trash)

You hate the concept of babysitting. When you were younger, everyone always let the other kids babysit while you stayed home. The thought of looking after another being and protecting them was way too stressful. But here you were.

 

The little monster (monster as in the species, not an insult) that you are babysitting is playing with some human child on the swings. You do not know how much freedom you are supposed to give a child without seeming either overbearing or reckless, so you watch from a park bench as the two chat. Briefly, you wonder why they are on the swings if the kid you are babysitting does not have arms. That doesn’t seem to be a problem, though, as opposed to swinging they are just moving lightly in the breeze. As you watch the kids, you crunch the snow beneath your feet.

 

Someone clears their throat, so you turn your head to acknowledge them. A goat woman(?) is smiling down at you, and you offer an awkward smile back. “Hello, may I sit down next you?” She asks, and you move your backpack in response, nodding your head. 

 

“Which one are you taking responsibility for?” She asks, a joking tone in her voice. You wonder how she can just start a conversation with anybody without being uncomfortable.

 

You gesture to the swings. “I’m babysitting the one on the left swing. Their name’s MK. What - what about yours?”

 

She laughs. “Oh, that’s a coincidence. My child’s Frisk, who seems to be talking to MK right now. How long have you been babysitting for?”

 

“Huh,” you say. “Not long. I don’t really babysit, but I have a lot of young family members and family friends so I know how to handle them, I guess?” You cringe at your wording. You sound so . . .unappreciative. You start to backtrack, but you’re interrupted by the goat’s soft laughter.

 

“Oh, I know what you mean. Kids are a lot of work, but they’re very worth it. Oh, where are my manners? My name is Toriel, and you?”

 

You tell your name politely, and then she’s asking about what you do for a living, and you’re talking and it’s gone from polite small talk to getting to know each other. Keeping conversations is difficult for you, but Toriel is patient and waits if you need a moment or two to gather your thoughts.

 

MK and Frisk come bouncing towards you. Frisk starts sending hand signs to Toriel, but since they aren’t directed at you, you don’t stare. MK starts talking. “You know, I think that we should come to the park more often! I like hanging out with Frisk, and you’re friends with Toriel now, right?” 

 

You sputter, but at Toriel’s agreeing smile, you feel confident. “Right.”

 

—

 

_A weapon in your hand. You hate using it, but you have to. You can stand being uncomfortable if it means saving your friends._

 

_Someone knocks on the door and says your name. “It’s time. Are you ready?”_

 

_Your mouth goes dry. You’re not. You’re not ready, not even a little bit._

 

_“Yes.”_

 

—

 

“Hello, how may I help you?” You ask, tugging on your apron as you force yourself to make eye contact with the customer in front of you. This job isn’t that bad, if not boring. Your coffee shop does not have that many customers and yet you still make well above minimum wage. That plus the babysitting you’ve been doing more frequently for MK has given you enough money to even have a little to splurge. You’re not sure what you want to splurge on, though.

 

The customer tells you their order, and you ring them up. You don’t make conversation. You try to avoid it, though if a customer starts it, you will have no choice but to play along.

 

“Next!” You call, looking up. There’s a skeleton, who, well, looks like he would rather be anywhere but there. You relate to him.

 

“could I have a chai latte, please?” He says, grinning at you. Then again, he’s been grinning since he came in here, so it’s probably just part of his face.

 

“Yep! 3.11 is your total. May I have a name, please?” you say, and accept the fiver.

 

“sure. i’m sans. thanks a latte,” he says. 

 

“No problem,” you say, your mind not connecting the dots. You hand him his change and turn to make his drink. You’re putting the lid on to the coffee cup when you realize. Did he . . .? Frowning at the fact that you had embarrassed yourself by not understanding, you take a Post-It from underneath the counter and start to scrawl on it, not wanting to draw on the cup itself like in the rom-coms. It’s too hot now, anyways.Satisfied, you stick the note onto the cup and call for Sans.

 

You don’t see him read it.

 

_Didn’t realize your pun in time >:(. If you come back to_ **_marrow,_ ** _I’ll surely have one by then. It’s bound_ **_tibia_ ** _good one._

 

_—_

 

You’re in your happy place the moment your shift ends. You slide into one of the restrooms and change out of the uncomfortable work clothes, before slipping on a t-shirt and leggings. The weather itself calls for some sort of outerwear, so you take a zipper sweatshirt and roll the sleeves to your elbows. You’re comfortable and yet somehow presentable, and that’s heaven.

 

You’ve been working at the coffee shop for longer than you would like to admit. You dropped out of college your sophomore year after having months of consecutive panic attacks and getting into depressive episodes so heavy you would stay in bed for more than twenty-four hours straight, feeling completely inert. You had been on a good path, of course, but then you had just given up. You had lost all of your determination.

 

After working here for six months, the previous owner, who you had once been very close to, let you clean out one of the empty storage rooms in the back and use it for whatever purposes you wanted. You brought in an easel and watercolors, and often painted the landscape that you could see from the back of the shop. When he died, his successor respected you enough to let you keep the room.

 

You set up a canvas on the easel, one that had a sketch of the river behind the shop. Honestly, you had probably painted this same angle at least three times in your life before, but whatever. You had also painted the trees that you could see from the window if you turned your body to the left and the like. It happens.

 

You settle down on the stool and dip your brush in the paint water. (The mug you put it in is labeled “do not drink”. You don’t want to talk about the story behind it.)

 

There’s a knock on the glass.

 

You jump, wild eyes meeting black ones. You relax immediately when you realize that it’s just the skeleton from earlier. He has a look on his face that you can’t decipher. _Sorry,_ he signs through the window. You smile, and brush your fingers against your palm twice as a way to say _I forgive you._ You stick out your tongue at him. In response, he signs the word _nice_ before spelling out p-u-n-s. _Nice puns._

 

You thank him, but then you blink and he’s gone. 

 

Monsters are weird.

 

You go back to painting.

 

(Somewhere, a skeleton laughs, more genuine than what most people see.)


	2. the one where you receive help

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Going into depth about reader's lifestyle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW for ableist slurs and anxiety attacks.
> 
> Tell me if you enjoyed!!

Your life has a schedule. A routine. It’s how you exist, it’s how you cope with living. You wake up at six in the morning sharp, thanks to both alarm clocks and body clocks alike. You stay in bed for five minutes exactly before you go shower and brush your teeth. Then, you make coffee and breakfast.

 

If anybody who knew you when you were fourteen saw you now, they’d be shocked. You used to be a mess when it came to routines. You used to never clean, have a sleeping schedule more fucked up than your eating one, and spend days inside. You find that you’re happier now. You don’t have many friends anymore, not after your old boss died, so you stick to yourself and you’re quite happy. Being friendly but distant is so much better than having long lasting relationships (romantic or otherwise) that go down in flames.

 

You set a timer before going into the shower, listening to your shower playlist so you can concentrate on your words rather than what’s on your head. You’re afraid that if you think too much, you’ll -

 

You’ll -

 

You’re afraid that if you even _think_ the words you’ll do it, so you don’t think it at all.

 

Breakfast is the same as always as you scroll through your schedule for the day on your phone. You have work from nine to twelve, and then you’re babysitting for MK’s parents from two to six. It’s a hassle, having two jobs in one day, but the busier you are, the better. You should probably get your hair cut one of these days, since you haven’t gotten it done in a long time. Maybe you can call your hairdresser later in the day to schedule an appointment for sometime this week.

 

It is lonely, and you’re not denying that at all. As you head out to your car to drive to work, you wonder what it would be like if you had a companion. It’s a fantasy, really, as you could never commit, but it _would_ be nice to have a forehead to kiss in the morning. Kids of your own have always been a daydream that you’ll never be able to complete. What if you left your kids all alone without even meaning to? 

 

A song comes on the radio that has a nice enough beat that you let it stay on. Your fingers drum against the steering wheel, humming contentedly even though you don’t know how it goes. Life is good like this.

 

——

 

You work the heaviest hours of the day, and even though it stresses you to hell and back, you’ve denied every offer to have your schedule switched. Not only would the concept of changing your schedule stress you out for a good few days, but the busyness is nice. 

 

Your coworker, Lucy, pats your shoulder when you have a thirty second break where there are no customers. “You’ve been working hard today,” she says with a smile. The two of you have always been polite, nothing more or less. “You got any plans for the weekend?” You know she’s not asking to see if you want to hang out, of course, since nobody would ever want to hang out with you, right? 

 

“I don’t know,” you say with a laugh. It’s empty. “Knowing me, I’ll probably just have a weekend in. What about you?”

 

You see her grin out of the corner of your eye. “My boyfriend’s taking me on a special trip, though he won’t tell me where. I think he might be proposing, actually!” 

 

You wiggle your eyebrows jokingly, which startles a laugh out of her. “Ooh, sounds like fun! How long have you been together?”

 

She answers you, but you stop paying attention when Sans walks through the door. You tune back in to hear her cutting herself off. “Oh, um, hey, do you got this one? I’m going to take my fifteen minutes.”

 

You nod even though Lucy’s already left, and wonder why the hell she’s scared of someone who says “thanks a latte.”

 

He drums his fingers - phalanges? - on the counter, and you glance at them momentarily before looking back at the skeleton.

 

“How may I help you?” You say automatically.

 

“can i get a chai latte and a medium coffee, please?” He doesn’t use specifics because of the self-serve machines to his left. 

 

You give him his total, but when you go to make the latte, he doesn’t go make the other coffee yet. “it’s a _brew_ tiful morning, isn’t it?”

 

You laugh, and take a moment to think of a pun. He lets you. “I . . .I can’t _espresso_ how good of a pun that was.”

 

“ah, i thought i was good at puns! you really _creamed_ me there.” 

 

You snort, and hand him his latte. He takes it and goes over to the machines, pumping the _Christmas Cookie_ coffee into his drink. It is a week before Christmas, after all.

 

Without thinking, you take a coffee pot and raise it into the air. “I guess you’re a _pot_ head,” you call down the few feet to where he is.

 

He cackles. “ _ground_ yourself, bucko, you don’t want to have a bad time.”

 

“I suppose not,” you say, but that’s the end of the conversation, as a group of teenage girls have entered the shop.

 

—

 

For a while, everything’s okay. But then it’s not.

 

It’s 11:56, and the person who’s supposed to relieve you of your shift hasn’t showed up yet. This isn’t _good._ Your schedule is going to get all messed up. Usually after shifts, you go into your painting room, but today you were supposed to go straight home at 12:05 so you could get ready to babysit MK. 

 

And, since it’s nearing noon, you’ve got a line that’s almost going out the door. If your coworker doesn’t show up, you might cry. You might panic. Oh god, what if you have a panic attack, right here? You’d get fired for sure, all because your brain was wired the wrong damn way.

 

Your boss peeks through the door to the back, smiling. “Hey, _____, do me a favor? Fairi isn’t coming in until 12:30. I’ll pay you for an hour of overtime if you do the next half hour?” 

 

You _could_ say that you have to babysit, you could tell him about your schedule, but you doubt he’s accepting, and you’ve never known how to say no to people,so you nod and he flashes you a thumbs up.

 

It gets to the point where you can’t look any of your customers in the eye. Usually, you can make the effort because you know it weirds them out, but you can’t, you can’t -

 

It’s 12:15, you’re halfway done, and you’re doing okay. You haven’t spilled anything or dropped anything yet.

 

_Splash._

 

shit.

 

You drop the iced mudslide on the floor. Shit, shit, fuck, okay, you’re definitely panicking now. You need to get the hell out of here, but you can’t do that yet.

 

“S-sorry about that! Here, I’m sorry, I’m -“ You’re interrupted by the swinging door to behind the bar opening. Expecting to see your manager about to flay you, you wince, and hesitantly meet his eyes.

 

Then, you have to look down a foot or two. Because it’s _not_ your manager, it’s Sans.

 

“Oh, hi, sorry, um, what are you . . .?” You ask.

 

“i got this, kid. i take care of customers, you take care of drinks, yeah? i’d offer my expertise, but i’m not working at this coffee shop for a reason.”

 

“Oh, uh, yeah. Thanks.”

 

“don’t mention it.”

 

For the next fifteen minutes, that’s what you do. You make drinks, Sans deals with customers, and you don’t have to look at anybody’s face. It works surprisingly well until Fairi comes through the door, armed with apologies. You’ve never really liked her, looking back on it.

 

—

 

_There are hundreds upon hundreds of people kneeling before you. They’re chanting your name._

 

_You feel alive._

 

_—_

 

You do get to MK’s house on time, of course, since you had ninety minutes to change clothes and calm down. In an ideal world, you would be able to spend the rest of the day in bed and recharging, but you do need the work - and the money. So fifteen minutes before two, you’re back out and driving to MK’s house.

 

Their parent beams up at you when you show up, telling you that they’ll be back in four hours and giving you money to take MK out for a late lunch/early dinner. You don’t think you’ve ever met any human as nice as these monsters you’ve been around lately. Not for the first time, you remember Sans from a few hours ago. Maybe you two can be proper friends.

 

“Hey, squirt,” you say to MK, who’s munching on some sort of peanut butter concoction, swinging their stubby little legs that do not reach the floor. _So cute,_ you think. They nod their head at you. “Does going to the park, then out for food, and then back for TV sound like a good day to you?” You’ve babysat the kid four times, and though you have a good idea of what they like, you always want to make sure they know what’s going on. That’s what you’d want someone to do for you, anyway.

 

“Yeah!” They say, grinning. “Frisk and their mom are going to the park, too.”

 

“Awesome!” You reply. “When do you wanna leave?”

 

“Now!”

 

“Okay!”

 

You can’t help it that the squirt makes you enthusiastic for once.

 

-

 

You and Toriel are chatting on the park bench, watching your two kids running around on the playground. She’s a sweetheart, truly. 

 

“I teach at a school that is meant for both monsters and humans, yes? Now, I have a friend named Papyrus; he and his brother help out with Frisk every once in a while, they’re very nice. I asked for his help decorating the school since winter is upcoming, thinking that he would make snowflakes or something, right? Well -“ She’s cut off by the sound of a phone buzzing. When she checks who it is, she makes a face. “Oh, pardon me, I unfortunately have to take this. Will you make sure Frisk doesn’t get into any trouble while I do?”

 

You’re not sure why Toriel has to leave to take this call, but you don’t question her. “Sure thing, don’t worry about it!” 

 

As she leaves, you can hear her say: “Alright, Asgore, why did you call? The whole world better be _dying,_ or else - “

 

Huh. That’s an ex-husband right there, probably.

 

You take your attention off of Toriel’s private business and go back to the kids. Frisk and MK are on the top of the slide, about to shoot down. 

 

A _ping._

 

from: jack

Hey! It’s me. I know we don’t text much but I was wondering if you would want to go get a few drinks sometime? I remember you as being really fun to be around.

 

Ah - Jack. You remember him. A family friend and a good guy. You’d never really thought about him romantically before, but you are pretty lonely these days. Maybe it wouldn’t be a bad idea? You’re so on edge these days, but maybe you would relax around someone who knows your quirks and problems. 

 

(Not all of them, of course. No one will ever know all of them.)

 

to: jack

sure thing! time and place??

 

Your attention is diverted from your phone the second you hear shouting. The kid who _is_ shouting is not yours, but he’s talking to Frisk at the bottom of the slide. It doesn’t look nice.

 

“Why don’t you talk, huh? Are you even listening to me?” You can see MK try to get in between Frisk and this human kid, but they just get pushed to the ground. 

 

“You some kind of _r e t a r d?_ ”

 

That’s the word that does it for you. That slur, thrown at you so many times by people who did and did not mean you harm . . . The near mention of it nearly brought you back to before any of this had happened, when you were little.

 

You’re running to Frisk before you even know what you’re doing, stepping in between the two children. If your eyes were fire, the kid would be scorched.

 

“Listen, kid, I don’t know who’s raising you, but pushing kids to the ground and calling them names is rude.”

 

The brat scoffs. You narrow your eyes.

 

“If you _ever, ever_ treat my friends that way again, I’ll be much meaner than this, alright? Don’t try it.”

 

You’re mean, looking back on it. This kid is what, eleven? Twelve? You scare him, and he runs away. MK pops back up to their feet, and gives you a thumbs up and looks pointedly at Frisk before you can ask if he’s okay.

 

_Still,_ you think. _I had to._

 

You crouch down next to Frisk. _Are you okay?_ You sign. They look surprised that you know sign language.

 

_I’m alright,_ Frisk signs back at you. _A lot of people don’t like me because I like monsters. Stops hurting._

 

_I’m sorry. People don’t understand differences. I used to get bullied because I was different, too._

 

_How were you different?_

 

You frown. That was a loaded question. _I . . . I couldn’t make eye contact. I stuttered over my words. I was loud, and talked without thinking. That made people angry._

 

Frisk wraps their little arms around you, surprising a laugh out of you. “Oh,” you say out loud, smiling. 

 

You see Toriel out of the corner of your eye, and so does Frisk, since they leave to go hug their mother.

 

Frisk starts signing something to Toriel so rapidly that you couldn’t keep up even if you tried.

 

She turns to you. “Would you like to come over for tea some time?”


	3. the one where you gain a biffle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You go to Toriel's for tea and meet someone who goes from scary to friendly in two minutes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Introduction of two (maybe three if you don't count texts in the last chapter) new characters this time! Also, since it seems like our two main charries are embarking on different romances, don't you worry. Is it a spoiler if I say that neither of them last long? Heh.
> 
> Tell me if you enjoyed! Tell me if you didn't!

“No way,” you say, grinning wide. “Nuh-uh, there is n-no way that you could ever even _think_ that that’s a good ship.”

 

Jack beams back at you. “What can I say? I’m a sucker for badass female leads.”

 

Swoon.

 

“Okay - okay,” you say, trying to think of an argument. “As much as I love both of them, them together? That kiss was _so_ forced.”

 

“I have the perfect solution,” he says triumphantly. You raise your eyebrow at him, taking a bite of your sandwich while he talks. “We’ll have to marathon both the seasons together, so I can show you why they’re a good couple.” You’re about to say “ _jeez, one of them isn’t even in the first season,”_ but then you realize the implications. A second date.

 

You smile faintly. Though you’re not sure how much you like him romantically . . . hanging out with him more sounds great. “I would like that.” 

 

His smile goes from amused to genuine at how soft your tone is. “Me, too.”

 

A comfortable moment together passes. “Oh!” You exclaim, voice a little too loud. You turn around to see if anyone heard you, but by the way he’s looking at you, you think even if the whole restaurant heard you he wouldn’t really care. “I babysit for this little monster kid, right? Their name is _literally_ Monster Kid, okay. I was - “

 

As you talk, you remember how fucking _easy_ it is to talk to someone who knows about how you work. You stutter and repeat sentences over, and he lets you because he knows you can’t help it. Being around strangers is so hard, but this?

 

You could get used to this.

 

—

 

You and Toriel decided that you would bring MK over to Toriel and Frisk’s house, and while they were playing the two of you would enjoy a cup of tea or two and get to know each other better. She said to come over sometime between noon and 12:30, but you’re nothing if not exact so you agree on 12:15. 

 

So here you are, fifteen minutes after twelve, staring at the most beautiful house you have ever seen from your car. You look at MK. “You never told me they live in a _mansion,”_ you say, not unkindly. 

 

They look at you funny. “Toriel said that she wanted to live in a small house. Is this not small?”

 

You give the house in question another examination. Well, maybe it’s a bit smaller than you thought. But it _is_ pretty fancy. It’s the house you would have fantasized about when you were younger. There was a black gate on the edges of the house, with a perfectly manicured garden kept safe. The entrance to the house itself was a tall wooden door with a hanging light shining down to where you would stand if you could just _leave the car._

 

Luckily, you can’t really stay in there any longer, as MK is already scampering out the car door and opening the gate. With one last “I can’t believe I’m about to do this”, you exist the car and call for MK to wait up.

 

They get to the door before you, but luckily you can ring the doorbell before they try to headbutt it. Toriel opens the door with Frisk behind her, both of them smiling. You suddenly feel like you should have brought something. Why didn’t you ask if you should have brought something? “Oh, right on time!” She says happily, and you can’t help but smile back.

 

She waves you into her house, and you follow, your jaw dropping slightly at how damn beautiful everything is. The wooden floors shine _way_ too much, and all the furniture looks like it’s top of the line. You think back to your apartment with the stained carpet and cracked tiles and grimace. You hope that these people don’t expect you to be something you’re not.

 

The kids, who have been chatting not-so-quietly, look at you and Toriel with big puppy eyes. “Can we play in the backyard?” 

 

“Oh, of course,” Toriel says. “______ and I will be right by the window, alright? Just shout if you need anything.” The two kids agree and scurry out of the house. Frisk’s mother turns to you, pleased. “What tea is your favorite? We have chai, raspberry, lemon, . . . golden flower . . .”

 

“Raspberry, please,” you say politely, smiling, and wonder what the hell she has wrong with golden flower tea. Not that you’ve ever heard of it, of course.

 

You settle at a round table by the window that could probably seat twenty people. Toriel smiles kindly at the unspoken question. “It’s just Frisk and I here,” she explains, “but we have lots of friends who don’t have family, so they come here for holidays and such. Monsters . . . well, a lot of them would prefer to be with their friends than their family, since your friends are your family that you choose, yes? And up here on the surface, humans are so family-oriented.”

 

“I understand,” you reply, smiling. “My brother - My brother lives hours away, but I still try to call him daily. Family really is everything.” 

 

(The sound of him screaming for you echoes through your head. You shake it out.)

 

Toriel nods. You want to ask her about her family, but she _did_ say that monsters prefer friends sometimes, right? Maybe that’s for a reason. Before you can say something dumb, Toriel places a cup of tea in front of you, and sits in the seat across from yours. _That was quick,_ you think. Taking a sip, you realize that it’s just how you like it. Surprised, you glance up at Toriel with a grin.

 

She looks delighted. “Oh, it’s a little magic I have. I’ve been told I always make the best tea.”

 

“Thank you,” you say, genuine. You glance out the window at the kids. 

 

“MK really likes you, you know,” Toriel says. “Of course, their idol is Papyrus, who I’m sure you’ve heard of by now, but you’re a close second. They never stop talking about you.” You have heard of the skeleton, yes. MK has told you that the stunt at the park was very “Papyrus”, and then they had “Nyeh heh heh”d. 

 

MK falls and face plants into the snow. You wince, and you’re about to go and see if they're okay, but they’re already back on their feet and smiling. “Do you think MK could get prosthetic arms?” You ask. When you had first seen them, you had thought that it was just that type of monster that had no arms, but their parent had a wonderful set of two. “They just fall down so often . . . I’m afraid they’ll get badly hurt one of these days.”

 

Toriel sighs. “I believe that that’s the dream. It’s just . . . very hard for monsters to save up extra money these days. I mean, we’re lucky that so many humans were willing to convert our gold pieces from the Underground into human currency. But there are so many taxes and raised costs for monsters . . .”

 

You feel like an idiot for even _suggesting_ it. Of course - so many monsters are in debt. How much do prosthetics even cost? Thousands upon thousands, right? 

 

Then you get an idea.

 

“Hey,” you say, suddenly. “Maybe . . . we could have a fundraiser. Like, um, a bake sale or something? I mean, that alone probably wouldn’t raise enough, but we could do other things?”

 

Toriel beams immediately. “That’s a lovely idea! Oh - perhaps I can run it by the PTA at the school. There are such kind parents there, I’m positive that . . .”

 

_Knock, knock, knock._

 

You look at Toriel quizzically, who taps her paws against the table. “Hmm, I’m not expecting company, I wonder . . . ?”

 

You can hear the door fly open from where you are at the table. “TORIEL? IT IS I, PAPYRUS, COMING TO ASK YOU A FAVOR?”

 

Despite yourself, your eyes light up. _This_ is Papyrus? You’ve wanted to meet him for so long! Stopping yourself from bounding to your feet and saying hello is hard work. You don’t have to, though, as he is now in the doorway of the kitchen, looking at Tori with glee.

 

“TORIEL! THERE YOU ARE! I WAS WONDERING IF YOU HAD ANY - OH!” Papyrus has laid his eyes on you. “YOU HAVE COMPANY! WHAT IS YOUR NAME, HUMAN?”

 

“_____,” you say, maybe a little too quickly. “It’s, ah, the great Papyrus, right?”

 

There’s a silence, brief but dead quiet. And then:

 

“WOWIE!” He says, beaming. “YOU KNOW MY FULL NAME! AND I HAVE NOT EVEN TOLD IT TO YOU. YOU MUST LIKE ME A LOT!”

 

“You bet! Nice to meet you.”  


“AND YOU AS WELL, HUMAN,” he grins, before pausing to correct himself with your name. “OH, SILLY ME, I HAVE BEEN DISTRACTED. TORIEL, I HAVE FOUND MYSELF IN A PREDICAMENT. I HAVE MADE A BAKING ATTEMPT FOR ALPHYS’ MOVIE NIGHT, BUT I HAVE NO SUGAR! COULD YOU, PERHAPS, LEND ME SOME?”

 

“Of course!” Toriel agrees, standing up to go over to one of the cabinets. “Why don’t you stay for a while? The kettle’s still hot, I can make you some tea.”

 

“I REALLY SHOULD GO BACK TO BAKING . . . “ Papyrus trails off. “BUT YOU HAVE ALWAYS BEEN THE BEST TEA-MAKER, TORIEL! I CAN’T RESIST!”

 

“make that two, tori?” You jump, because that voice is familiar and also unexpected. You turn to see Sans, and you’re about to say hello but -

 

_Oh._ He’s looking at Toriel like she has the sun shining out of her ass. His cheekbones are even tinted blue, so slightly that you can barely tell. And, wow, he’s not grinning like he usually does. You had thought that that was just his permanent facial expression, because he had kept it all throughout helping you at the cafe last week. Now, his teeth are still showing, but not as much as before. It’s a smile, but a more natural one. 

 

That’s adorable. You would ask Toriel if she knows, and if they’re together, but that’s not really your business, huh? You’re not sure how much you would like it if people asked you about Jack.

 

(But then again, you’re not even sure if you li-)

 

“oh, heya, bud,” Sans says, having finally noticed you. “didn’t know you were friends with toriel.”

 

“Heh, well, I didn’t know you were, either.”

 

“SANS! YOU KNOW MY NEW FRIEND?” Papyrus asks, clearly surprised. “I THOUGHT YOU ONLY HUNG OUT WITH OUR CIRCLE.”

 

“well, i didn’t really mean to be - no offense, kid. we’ve shared a couple of puns while they’re at work. they’re good people. not to talk about you like you’re not here or anything.” He slides into the seat next to you, though you suspect that it is only because once Toriel sits back down, she will be directly across from him.

 

“WHERE DO YOU WORK, FRIEND?” Papyrus asks, accepting a tea from Toriel and slurping.

 

“I work at the coffee shop on the other side of town,” you answer. “The Rainbow Cafe?”

 

“OH, I HAVE HEARD OF IT! IT IS RIGHT NEXT TO ONE OF SANS’ WORKPLACES. HE WORKS AT THE LIBRARY.”

 

“The library?” You ask thoughtfully. “Huh, I don’t know if I would have pegged you for - wait! Heh, is that how you know so many puns? Do you just read joke books in your spare time?”

 

Sans’ grin is back. “of course. would i be the pun master if i didn’t?”

 

Papyrus taps the tips of his fingers on the table, making a clicking noise. “WAIT, BACK TO THE CAFE. I GO THERE ALL THE TIME! NOW . . . FRIEND, WE SHOULD NOT ONLY BE FRIENDS, BUT BEST FRIENDS! I’VE HEARD THE TERM IS ‘BIFFLES?’”

 

You couldn't stop yourself from beaming even if you tried. Now, you’re not good at reading people, but from the other end of the table, you think that the hand Toriel has to her heart says that she’s feeling the same way you are. “Yeah! Let’s be biffles, Papyrus! I guess you like coffee, then?”

 

“NONSENSE!” Papyrus replies. “COFFEE, THOUGH IT HELPS HUMANS, DOES NOTHING FOR A SKELETON LIKE ME! PLUS, THE TASTE? THERE ARE NO BENEFITS! TEA IS MUCH BETTER.”

 

“Oh, okay. That makes sense. Is tea what you like from the coffee shop?”

 

“SOMETIMES. I MAINLY COME TO THE COFFEE SHOP FOR THOSE CAKE POPS YOU HAVE. THEY ARE TRULY YUMMY, EVEN THOUGH THEY DO NOT TASTE LIKE CAKE.”

 

Any wall that you could have still had up has come crumbling down. What a sweetheart.

 

“FRIEND, WOULD IT BE ALRIGHT IF WE EXCHANGED NUMBERS?”

 

Oh, this is going a little fast. But . . . what’s the worst that can happen? 

 

“Sure! Here, give me your phone and I’ll put my number in?” You’ve never really been known for your good decisions.

 

As you’re typing your number into Papyrus’ phone and putting three emojis next to your contact name, Sans leans over your shoulder.

 

“my brother’s taken, by the way. just telling ya - don’t want you to get your heart broken.” You roll your eyes and huff, and for the first time _ever,_ think of a good comeback almost immediately.

 

It might be a little mean, though.

 

Eh, fuck it.

 

“Oh, but Toriel isn’t,” you say, winking at him. “Go get ‘er, tiger.”

 

He turns bright blue and goes back to his tea.

 

That’s what he gets for teasing you.

 

—

 

You meet her a week after Toriel’s. You had been a little worried that Sans had been offended, but he’s been to your work three times now and been funny and nice as ever. You suppose you were just worrying too much again.

 

There are two people in line when she flings the door open to the cafe. Looking back, you’re lucky there weren’t more people. You hate scenes.

 

She pushes the person in the front of the line aside, and glares at you like you’re an enemy. Oh dear.

 

“Tell me what your plans are for my friends,” she demands. Okay, who have you pissed off lately? Thinking, thinking . . .

 

Oh. Maybe you haven’t pissed off anybody at all.

 

“Are you gonna hurt them? Huh, punk?”

 

Your fingers find your apron, rubbing soothing motions into the fabric in an attempt to make yourself calm down. “I’m n-not! I w-won’t hurt anybody, okay? I wouldn’t. _I wouldn’t._ ” You take a moment to breathe. Her eyes find your fingers on your apron and her entire face softens. That, for some reason, makes you a little pissed. You’re not weak. You’re _not._ “Now, are you gonna get anything or do I - or do I need to ask you to leave?”

 

She blinks, wide-eyed, before cackling, punching the counter in a show of amusement. “Man! You just reminded me of two different people in five seconds! Nah, punk, I’m super sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you. It’s cool that you still would’ve fended me off though. Um, yeah, actually, can I get a chai latte?”

 

“That’s what Sans always gets,” you say with a laugh, in a last-ditch attempt to get yourself to realize she’s not dangerous. “I’m, uh, assuming that’s who this is about?”

 

She, at least, has the decency to look embarrassed. “I, uh, cook with Papyrus. He wouldn’t stop talking about his new human friend, but . . . we haven’t had the best luck with humans lately.”

 

You nod, absentmindedly drawing a smiley face in the foam of the latte. “I completely understand. Humans are . . . dickweeds.”

 

She grins. “Nice language. We should hang out sometime. Do you like anime? My girlfriend and I love it, and there’s so much of it up on the surface!”

 

You’ve never really given anime a shot. But . . . maybe . . . it’s not about what you watch. 

 

Maybe it’s just about who you’re with.

 


	4. the one where you lose one thing, but gain another

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You hang out with your new friends and reveal a bit about yourself. The domesticity starts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A lot of fluff with a weird bit of angst. 
> 
> also: It's finals/midterms for the next two weeks for me. Updates will be scattered, so don't yell at me if the next chapter doesn't come out for a bit. It should even out in a little while.
> 
> follow me on tumblr: jonnedsnow. send asks about the story if you want idk im thirsty for friends
> 
> (TRIGGER WARNING: a brief description of violence, mentions of death, and a lot of profanity. also caps lock.)

Four dates into your relationship, it ends.

 

You never really get that spark, you know? Jack is a really nice guy, who values and respects all the same things that you do. But . . . you never want to kiss him. You never _try,_ anyway, and he never tries to kiss you either. It is almost . . . relieving? You’re not sure what you will do in the situation that he does try to kiss you, but luckily he never does. 

 

You get a text from him when you’re curled up in bed with an episode of Game of Thrones.

 

from: jack

Hey, do you want to come over to my apartment today? Sorry for late notice!

 

_Oh no,_ you think. Is it conceited if you assume that this might be an advance on you? If it is, you might die on the spot. Not seriously, of course. But you might faint. Though, maybe you can use this as the time to tell him that though you like him, it’s in a completely platonic way. You pause the screen right on Jon Snow’s beautiful, sad face and get up from bed. The sheets are falling off, leaving a bit of the mattress exposed, and the comforter is a heap at the foot of the bed. You don’t have the energy to make your bed, so you turn away.

 

You get a call from Papyrus on the drive over to Jack’s. You accept the call on Bluetooth, which automatically makes your music stop playing.

 

“HELLO?” Papyrus booms. You turn down the volume. “THIS IS PAPYRUS.” He’s called you nearly every day since Toriel’s. And, the best part is that whenever he does, he tells you the time that he will call you next. You haven’t told him about your routine, but maybe it’s obvious or something. Though it _is_ surprisingly lovely having someone around you so often.

 

“Hey, buddy!” You exclaim. “How’s your day going, Papyrus?”

 

“I AM FANTASTIC, THANK YOU, HUMAN! I HOPE THAT YOU ARE DOING WONDERFUL AS WELL.YOU DESERVE IT ALL!TWO OF MY VERY ABUNDANT FRIENDS AND I ARE HAVING A MOVIE NIGHT AT MY HOUSE TOMORROW NIGHT. WE WANTED TO HUMBLY INVITE YOU.”

 

“Oh, who are your friends?”

 

“IT WILL BE UNDYNE AND ALPHYS! SANS WILL BE WORKING BUT HE MIGHT STOP BY, SINCE IT IS HIS HOUSE.” Ah, Undyne. What a character. You’ve yet to meet Alphys, though. 

 

“What’s Alphys like?” You ask. “I’ve met Undyne, but I haven’t heard much about Alphys. Is she nice?”

 

“ALPHYS IS GREAT. SHE AND I HAVE CONFIDENCE TRAINING TWICE A WEEK. SHE LIKES CARTOONS AND READING HISTORY BOOKS.”

 

That’s fair.

 

_You shouldn’t go,_ a little voice hisses in your head. _Once they find out how fucking weird you are, they’ll never want to talk to you again. You should distance yourself before they get the chance._

 

“Okay, sounds great! What time do you want me over?”

 

You’ve never been good at listening to reason.

 

You end the call when you get to Jack’s apartment building, telling Papyrus that you are at your boyfriend’s but you’ll call him when you get back. He wishes you a good date.

 

You . . . kind of doubt that you’re still gonna have the ‘taken’ relationship status at the end of the day, though.

 

The doorman is expecting you, weirdly enough, and asks you how your day is going. You maintain a polite conversation before you head up the stairs to Jack’s apartment.

 

He looks . . . antsy when he beckons you inside. “Do you want a drink?” He asks. “Got some fancy wine the other day - interested?”

 

“Not really,” you say with a laugh. “Maybe another time. Just water, please?”

 

“Got it,” he agrees, heading into the kitchen. “Why don’t you, uh, sit at the table? I'll be there in a second.”

 

So you do.

 

It only takes about thirty seconds for things to get awkward. You’re too scared to say it. You don’t know how. He’s sitting right across from you, a silence taking over the room after he finished his story. Okay, you can do this. Twenty seconds of courage. Twenty, nineteen . . .

 

“Jack, I -“ You begin.

 

“We need to talk - “ He says at the same time. 

 

You laugh awkwardly, wishing you were back watching television in your bed. “You go first,” you say.

 

He takes a deep breath. “I’m in love with someone else,” he says, not making eye contact with you. “I thought that dating someone new was the best way to get over him, but . . . I just can’t stop thinking about him. This isn’t fair on you, I’m so sorry, but we’re not gonna be dating anymore, okay?”

 

You blink. Then, you crack up. You try to calm yourself down, but then you look at how utterly lost Jack looks and you laugh some more.

 

“I’m so sorry,” you apologize, still giggling. “Sorry, I just - I came in here thinking I was gonna break up with _you._ ” That does make him laugh a little. “I’m sorry, you’re a great guy, Jack, but I just . . . never really felt it. But, um, these ‘dates’ have made me really happy, so . . . can we still hang out?”

 

He grins. “Sure thing. Wanna watch a movie?”

 

-

 

The call comes when you are _this_ close to finishing your painting of the river. You’re tempted to not answer while you still have the stroke of determination drumming through your veins, but then you see who the call is from and you simply can’t ignore it.

 

“Hey, it’s ____,” you say automatically. 

 

“Hey!” Your brother says cheerfully through the phone. “How’s my little punk doing?”

 

“I’m good,” you say, and then think of the movies you’d watched with Jack yesterday and the calls with Papyrus. “Like, genuinely good. I’ve made a few friends, which is undeniably weird if you remember, like, two or three weeks ago.”

 

“You didn’t mention them in our last call,” he says thoughtfully. “Maybe I’ll meet them!”

 

“Huh?”

 

“Oh, well, I guess I’m getting a little ahead of myself. I’m going to visit Maria next weekend, and since you’re on the way, I figured I could stay with you next Friday night, catch up?. . .Is that okay? I can give you your belated Christmas present!”

 

“Yes,” you say, a bit too fast. Though you call your brother once or twice a week, you haven’t seen him in person in almost four months now. The drive is only like seventy-five minutes, but you’ve had work and you did go to school, once. He’s been out of school for nearing five years now, but that doesn’t mean he’s not busy anymore. You’d wanted to have Christmas together last week, but the snow . . . You’d ended up curled in your bed with holiday flicks. It was a pretty shitty Christmas. “Yes, yes, yes! I miss you.”

 

You can hear the smile through the phone. “I miss you too, kid.”

 

-

 

You can safely say that you have never been in this position before in your life. Most of your days until recently were spent alone, and the knowledge that nobody was going to stay in your life made decisions like these much easier.

 

Long story short, you don’t know what to wear for movie night at Papyrus’. Something casual would suffice, right? That would probably be best, but you don’t want to look sloppy. Do zipper sweatshirts seem sloppy? You don’t think so, but you’re not sure how other people’s brains work. 

 

You end up deciding on a graphic t-shirt to go under your sweatshirt, along with leggings and your slippers. This is basically what you would wear in the painting room, so maybe you’ll be more comfortable if you’re in your element.

 

You check your text messages with Papyrus a thousand times to make sure you’ve got the right time. Six. Okay, okay. Your phone says that it’s an eight minute drive away, so you have about two minutes till you leave. Should you bring anything? Oh no, you didn’t even ask. They probably think you’re so inconsiderate.

 

Quickly, you type out a question on your phone.

 

to: papyrus

Do you want me to bring anything? I should have asked earlier I’m sorry

 

He answers within ten seconds. You’re not sure how.

 

from: papyrus

IT IS NO TROUBLE, HUMAN!!!!!!!! DO NOT WORRY ABOUT BRINGING ANY FOOD. IF YOU HAVE A MOVIE THAT YOU WANT US TO SEE, I WOULD BE HAPPY TO WATCH IT! BUT THAT IS ONLY A SUGGESTION. YOU DON’T HAVE TO!!!!!!!!! DO WHAT MAKES YOU HAPPY!!!!! :) :) :) :) :)

 

You wonder how he typed all of that so quickly, before grinning at the texts.

 

to: papyrus

Gotcha. Thanks!

 

You pick up the Sorcerer’s Stone tentatively, glancing at your watch to make sure you still have time to text Papyrus again.

 

to: papyrus

Would Alphys and Undyne be willing to watch something that wasn’t anime?

 

He answers in three seconds this time. A new record.

 

from: papyrus

THEY WILL SURVIVE. I, ON THE OTHER HAND, WILL REJOICE! THAT CARTOON STUFF CAN GET CONFUSING AFTER A WHILE. READING ALL THE SUBTITLES IS DIFFICULT.

 

Now confident, you head to your car.

 

-

 

Sans and Papyrus own a house that seems like home. Not your home, or your old home, of course, but . . . It’s just so homey. The campfire smell when you walk in is pleasant, and the lumpy sofa seems so worn and loved that it hits your heartstrings. Then, you wonder why you’re feeling feels over a sofa.

 

Papyrus gives you a quick tour as Undyne and Alphys wait on the couch, noticing when your eyes fall on a rock covered in sprinkles. “THAT IS SANS’ PET ROCK. HE IS TOO LAZY TO FEED IT, HOWEVER, SO I HAVE TO TAKE RESPONSIBILITY. AS USUAL. NYEH HEH HEH.”

 

“Oh,” you say, a fond smile on your lips. “Does it have a name?”

 

Papyrus’ facial expression is frowning, but without moving his mouth. The emotion must be in the eyes. “I DON’T BELIEVE SO. HE MUST BE TOO LAZY TO NAME IT! MAYBE I SHOULD. HM . . .DO YOU THINK THAT ‘FRED’ SUFFICES?”

 

“I think it’s perfect,” you say.

 

“I NAMED HIM AFTER A HUMAN I MET AT THE SUPERMARKET YESTERDAY,” Papyrus informs you. “HE TOLD ME TO HAVE A NICE DAY! WHAT A NICE MAN.”

 

“Great!” You say, then glance at the rock.

 

( . . . it seems happy.)

 

You pass the Harry Potter case to Undyne, who inspects it properly. “It’s not anime, but almost every human has watched it. You’ll probably hear more references from this movie than any other, well, maybe minus one or two other series.”

 

“ _Wizards?_ ” Undyne booms. “Man, human culture is so cool! Let’s watch it, and then we can watch an episode or two of that anime we want to start. Sound fair?”

 

“Sounds amazing,” you confirm, and sit on the floor. Somebody has laid blankets and pillows on the ground, since the sofa isn’t big enough for all four of you. Papyrus plops down next to you, pulling his knees to his chest and curls his arms around them. Instead of being a protective gesture, though, it seems to be just how he sits.

 

He shushes Undyne and Alphys for making small talk the second the movie starts. You find that incredibly ironic, but Papyrus actually barely makes a sound during the entire movie. Sure, he laughs at the jokes, and gasps loudly at Quirrell’s reveal, but he is so intent on not missing anything about the movie. It’s rather endearing.

 

They all agree that next weekend you should come over with the next movie, and that maybe it could be a weekly tradition. You like the sound of that. 

 

The anime, to be frank, is weird. It’s about some princess who wields a sword three times her size. As much as you love battling female characters, you’re pretty sure that a sword that big couldn’t be held without having the wielder completely topple over. Eh, who are you to question art?

 

Sans comes home with three pizzas halfway through the second episode. Unsurprisingly, the anime is paused because, dude, pizza. Papyrus demands that everyone goes into their dining room and sits at the table like a “proper family”. He then explains that they didn’t have a dining room in their old house, so he likes to use it as much as he can. 

 

Everyone sits at the table, napkins in their laps, drinking coffee, with big, greasy slices of pizza on their plates. It’s pretty amazing.

 

“I THINK WE SHOULD GO AROUND AND SAY THE WORST AND BEST THINGS THAT HAPPENED TO US TODAY. THAT WAY, WE CAN FIND COMFORT ABOUT THE WORST, BUT WE CAN SHARE HAPPINESS AS WELL!”

 

“I think that’s a great idea, Pap!” You say warmly. “Who should go first?”

 

“OOH! ME, ME!” Papyrus says, then gestures the counter-clockwise motion around the table. That makes sense. “THE WORST PART OF MY DAY WAS WHEN SANS MADE THAT PUN TO FROGGIT. HE SAID THAT FROGGIT’S STORY WAS FUNNY, BUT IT WASN’T ‘RIBBITING’. IT RUINED MY HOUR!”

 

Everyone laughs, or cackles in Undyne’s case. Sans looks immensely pleased with himself. “THE BEST PART WAS WATCHING MOVIES WITH MY BEST FRIENDS. HUMAN MOVIES ARE SO INTRIGUING.” You can’t help the “awww” that comes out of your mouth.

 

Undyne’s turn. “Well, uh, I taught Frisk how to tap out a few songs on the piano this morning. That was pretty neat. The worst part of my day? Uh . . . I don’t know if I have one. Today was pretty good!”

 

“THAT’S NOT HOW THE GAME WORKS,” Papyrus scolds.

 

“Shit, okay,” Undyne says, clearly trying to keep laughter out of her voice. “I tripped on a rock earlier. It sucked.”

 

You’re the only one who laughs, but Undyne grins at you, so you don’t mind.

 

“Oh, u-um, I liked that anime we just watched! A-and spending time with you all, of course. The worst part of my d-day, well, not to sound like a downer or anything, but, um, we found out that one of our leads at work was a dead end.”

 

“Where do you work?” You ask, curious.

 

“At the lab down in the city,” Alphys answers. “Pennington’s Laboratory?”

 

“I’ve heard of it,” you say with a smile. “I’m, uh, sorry about your lead. I believe in you, though!”

 

“What about you, punk?” Undyne questions. “What were your things of the day?”

 

“Huh,” you say. “Is it cheating if I say something that happened yesterday?”

 

“YES,” Papyrus cries.

 

“nah,” Sans says with a shrug.

 

“Okay, then. Well, um, the worst thing that happened to me . . .? My boyfriend and I broke up yesterday, so that’s a bummer. He wasn’t over one of his exes, is all, and I wasn’t really feeling it either. It’s cool, though. We’re still friends.”

 

“Whenever an ex tells you they want to remain friends, it’s _bullshit,”_ Undyne informs you, as if you don’t already know. “I mean, the only person I’ve ever dated is the one I’m currently dating, but I’ve watched enough anime to know the truth.”

 

Papyrus gasps. “HUMAN! I CALLED YOU BEFORE YOU WENT ON THAT DATE YESTERDAY! IF I HAD KNOWN THAT YOU WERE GOING TO HAVE YOUR HEART BROKEN, I WOULD HAVE GIVEN YOU WORDS OF COMFORT AND ADVICE!”

 

“I’m really fine,” you assuage. “Don’t worry! There are other fish in the sea for me. Uh, that’s just an expression, Undyne. Oh, uh, the best thing that happened to me today? My brother called! He wants to come up next weekend, since we haven’t seen each other in a long time. I’m super excited, since he’s the only family I have.”

 

“WHAT HAPPENED TO YOUR OTHER FAMILY?” Papyrus asks. Undyne not-so-subtly kicks him under the table, but they all look curious. You can’t really blame him.

 

“It’s alright! Our parents died about three years ago. There was . . . an accident. It’s an old wound now, and I’m doing fine, so don’t worry. It doesn’t hurt anymore. My brother and I are really close, and we usually call each other a few times a week, but after it happened, I had to get out of my hometown. There were just, uh, too many memories there, you know?”

 

“I-I understand,” Alphys says. “The feeling of not wanting to go or be somewhere because of the memories.”

 

A comfortable silence fills the room. Then: “oh, don’t leave me feeling _bonely_ here. it’s still my turn!”

 

“Boo,” you say. “I’ve heard that one a thousand times.”

 

“you must know a lot of skeletons, then.”

 

“Nah, just two. Sorry, I-I didn’t mean to interrupt. Keep talking.”

 

“heh. the best part of my day has a bit of backstory behind it. two days ago, i picked frisk up from school. the kid’s clever, you know. they might not talk much but they sure do speak, ya get what i’m saying?”

 

“NO.”

 

“ . . . it’s a metaphor. anyways, the kid’s hilarious. i’m standing there, walking them home, and this lady from the pta starts going off on them because they apparently insulted her kid. so i sign something to frisk, asking what they did, and frisk tells me that this human punk was complaining about monsters. saying things i don’t think that an eleven-year-old should know how to say. so i turn to this lady, who has this obvious distaste in her eyes, right? heh, i look at her, and, because i never learn, i take my hand out to give her a shake. i introduce myself. this bitc- ahem, lady, refuses to even _look_ at my hand, forget about shaking it. she says that she’s not even gonna think about trying to pronounce my name, because ‘monster names’ are so hard to pronounce anyway. so i, being the asshole that i am, said, ‘i understand, linda, but don’t bring your racism into my kid’s school that is _known_ for being monster-friendly.’ if i was doing one of my comedy shows, i would have dropped the mic.”

 

“I DO NOT SEE WHAT IS SO FUNNY. SHE WAS BEING RUDE, AND THIS DID NOT HAPPEN TODAY, SO, LIKE ______, YOU ARE CHEATING,” Papyrus announces. You’re too busy laughing to say anything.

 

“no, wait. there’s more. her name’s not linda, right? it’s some equally-weird name that i can’t even remember. but linda sounded cliche, so i said it. that night, i googled some typical human names to mess her up with.yesterday, she was becky. today, she was susan. anyways, the highlight of my day was the look on her face when i called her the wrong name today. that’s all.”

 

“What about the worst?” You ask.

 

“eh, the shit that she said after was pretty vile stuff. it would’ve made me cry, y’know, if i had tear ducts.”

 

“Amazing,” you snort, taking another slice of pizza. “Simply amazing.” You’re about to open your mouth and say something about how you cannot believe that there are people who think that way, but Undyne’s already talking about what she did for Christmas and, well, you want to listen.

 

-

 

You’ve never had so much fun in your life. After pizza, you all had played Monopoly, and Sans had destroyed everyone. You had lost in peace, happy to just be a part of it. “Next time, I’ll bring Cards Against Humanity,” you had said. “You’re all gonna love it.”

 

You flick on the lights in the kitchen of your apartment. Three out of four of the lights are out, dooming you to a dim atmosphere. All of a sudden, your movie night with your new friends seems so long ago. Now, it’s just you and your dark kitchen.

 

“I just wanted a drink of water,” you complain to the emptiness, opening your cabinet and pulling out a glass. “I have to be in bed in thirty minutes and I want to get an episode of _The Walking Dead_ in.” A voice in your head asks why you’re talking, and who to. But you don’t know.

 

You turn on the tap, clumsily shoving the glass under the running water. When it’s full enough, you turn off the sink and -

 

and you trip over your own fucking feet.

 

The glass shatters in your hand when it makes impact with the floor, and since gravity is a bitch, you slap your palm _right_ into the shards. You scurry backwards, bumping your back into your dishwasher, cradling your right hand. Tears well up in your eyes, and pain shoots through your veins.

 

The tears that came because of the pain stay because of the loneliness. You never wanted this! You never wanted to be condemned to a barely-affordable, lonely apartment in a city an hour from home. You just want your parents back. You just want to see your brother.

 

“I could get them back,” you say mournfully, not even thinking about what you’re implying. “I could get them back. But that would mean . . . but that would mean . . .”

 

You wouldn’t. That’s a choice that you can never make.

 

Your tears have turned into full-on sobbing. You cried yourself to sleep that night, begging for some unknown person to help you.

 

But nobody came.

 

 

 

(That night, while you sleep, your phone buzzes with five new messages, one after the other.

 

from: papyrus

IT WAS NICE TO WATCH MOVIES WITH YOU TODAY!!!! :) :)

 

from: papyrus

I THINK THAT WE CAN BE REALLY GREAT FRIENDS.

 

from: papyrus

HAVE A GOOD NIGHT’S SLEEP, FRIEND. :) :) 

 

from: papyrus

WE’RE ALL GOING TO UNDYNE AND ALPHYS’ VACATION HOUSE FOR A WEEK NEXT MONTH.

 

from: papyrus

YOU SHOULD COME!!!!!!!! WE’D LOVE TO HAVE YOU!!!!! :) :) :) :)

 

And then, another one, an hour later.

 

from: an unknown number

glad i got to know you better today. you might not have your boyfriend anymore, but, well, you got us. you don’t have to be alone.)

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> am i the only one who thinks that "one worst part about your day and one best part" is the most "family with young kids" shit ever??? i mean my mom always tried to pull that on me but nah son


	5. the one where you're home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> to: person that i'm not revealing yet for spoiler purposes
> 
> WHAT THE FUCK WHY DIDNT YOU GIVE ME ANY WARNING

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took ten million years!!!!!!! The next one might just take longer, whoops. Check end note for polls about where the story should go.
> 
>  
> 
> Also: let me take this as opportunity to tell you that I have this story planned out perfectly. The "big twist" that will be heavily hinted at in this chapter is planned out. I just wanted to say this because I have a very irrational fear that someone will come out with a similar idea and I'll be yelled at for copyright. Thanks.

“That will be $4.65, please,” you say, and the monster, so decked out in armor that you can’t see what they look like, hands you a fiver. The only way you can tell that they _are_ a monster is the fact that their helmet is shaped in the way that one would create a helmet for a dog, or maybe a horse.You almost say _I like your outfit today_ , but you’re not sure if that’s offensive, just like you’re not sure of anything, so you shut your face. You bag up the two cookies and the muffin for him, the permanent fake smile on your face. They rasp out a muffled _thanks_ and shuffle away.

 

That’s when you see Alphys come through the door. Your smile becomes a genuine grin, and you open your mouth to greet her when you realize that she doesn’t look good at all. Not in a mean way, but you can see her shaking from a good five feet away. Her eyes are wild and searching, and it seems like a weight is off of her shoulders when she sees you. You look at Lucy working next to you, and she talks before you can beg to help Alphys.

 

“Go,” she says. “Make sure she doesn’t cause a scene.”

 

_Bitch,_ you think, a little cruelly. “Don’t worry, I got this,” you say, slightly snarky, as you slip from behind the bar and go near Alphys. “Hey,” you greet, trying to be gentle and not seem like you’re panicking. Because, in the end, you don’t got this.“I have a room in the back where I paint, it’s pretty quiet in there, do you want to . . .?”

 

Alphys nods, seemingly unable to speak. “Um, can I touch your back?” You ask, and she nods again, so you carefully lead her out of the room and into the room with your canvases. You sit her down on your stool, and think of what to say. _You’ll be okay_ and _there’s nothing to be afraid of_ both seem weak, so you open and close your mouth until you can think of something.

 

“I know that what you’re feeling right now is . . . terrifying,” you say. “I know you’re scared, but even though it feels that way, you . . . your thoughts can’t hurt you. You’re safe. You’re among friends. You don’t have to talk about anything you don’t want to, but - but I’ll listen. I w-won’t judge. You’re safe with me.”

 

A few seconds, though it feels like a few minutes, pass before Alphys speaks. “There was something . . . about me, that I had done. It was a while ago, I regret it now, I-I never meant to hurt anyone,” she says, and she’s sniffling now. You wish you had a tissue that you could offer her, but you don’t, so you just try to listen.

 

“I lied. W-well, I didn’t. I just never told a-anyone. And Undyne found out and she looked at me like I was, like I was _horrible,_ like I was a _villain!_ And I didn’t know what to do, because if I went to anyone else they would just pry. Papyrus would, Asgore would . . . I guess Tori wouldn’t, but hell knows where she is and, and, and . . .”

 

“I’ve done things I regret, too,” you say. “I’m not saying that I know how you feel but . . . the things that people - the things that _we_ have done in the past don’t define us. We change as people, and we grow, and we learn what’s wrong and right. And even though it shapes us into the people we are today, we . . . aren’t the same people anymore. Does that make sense?”

 

Alphys nods. “T-thanks. Do you . . .give motivational speeches often?” It’s a weak attempt at a joke, so you laugh to lighten her mood.

 

“I’ve been trying to tell that to myself for the past three years,” you admit. “It doesn’t have the same effect when there’s nobody else to tell it to you.”

 

—

 

_“_____!” Your brother shouts. “What’s wrong? Why did you scream?”_

 

_“I-I-I . . .I can’t breathe, I can’t breathe . . .”_

 

_“It’s okay, I’ll be right there, you’re going to be- holy shit.”_

 

_—_

 

“Can I ask a really invasive question that-that you don’t have to answer if you don’t want to?” Alphys blurts. She seems like she’s calming down, so you don’t want to say no and make her fearful again.

 

Dazed by your brief but violent memory, you nod. “Sure, sure.”

 

“Did your parents die before or after the monsters came here? You said it was three years ago, and, and, the three-year-anniversary of monsters being up here was last month, so I was just curious . . .?”

 

_If it was related,_ you read. She wants to know if monsters got your parents killed, either in the species’ defense or against them. You want to tell her that it _was_ related, but not in the way that she thought.

 

“Before,” you say. “About a week before. They died never knowing that you guys even existed.”

 

“I’m so sorry,” she says. “Family is a weird value with monsters. It’s more of a respect - more of a ‘oh, thank you for keeping me alive for a few years’, before children just . . . wander off into the world. I mean, you love them, of course, but . . . it’s hard to explain. Every monster I know isn’t really connected to their family anymore. I’ve never met Undyne’s family, or Sans and Papyrus’ . . .The only exception is with boss monsters, I think.”

 

“What are boss monsters?” You ask. “I’ve never heard the term.”

 

“Um, so, I know that you guys didn’t know that monsters existed, but it was a legend, right? And . . . you’d heard about the legend? The specifics?” Talking about this has seemingly pacified her, so you play along.

 

“Um, vaguely?” You say. “Humans banished monsters because they were afraid of a power the monsters had. Don’t remember what.”

 

“Okay,” Alphys says. “That’s basically it. Thing is - everyone has a soul, right? Monsters . . . it dies when we die. Our soul bursts. _Poof,_ the second we turn to dust. Humans’ souls remain forever, I think. The souls that were in the Underground that we used to cross the barrier remained sitting around for years. Anyway, um . . . boss monsters’ souls _don’t_ burst right away. E-even if it’s only for a few minutes, they stay. And they can be absorbed.”

 

“ _Absorbed?”_ You ask, surprised.

 

“Yeah, um, the power that monsters had that humans don’t? Basically, since human’s souls persist after death, they can be absorbed. Makes monsters really powerful. Humans can absorb monster souls too, or they would be able to, if the souls didn’t shatter upon death.”

 

“Oh,” you say. “That . . .makes sense. Do you know any boss monsters?”

 

“Toriel is one,” Alphys says. “Asgore. Their son was too, before he died. It’s . . .everything is different when it comes to them. They’ve lived thousands of years, they might live a thousand more. They only age when their children do, but their son died, so . . .”

 

“That’s so sad. I didn’t know they had a child.” You’ve never even met Asgore. The only times you’ve heard of him were when Toriel spat angry words. 

 

“His name was Asriel. I . . . it’s weird. In, in anime and stuff, they always say that arranged marriages never work. The person who’s in an arranged marriage always loves someone else. But Toriel and Asgore . . . they loved each other more than anyone.”

 

“Huh. She hates him now.”

 

“With good reason. D-don’t get me wrong! Asgore is great, but . . .”

 

You’re about to ask what he did when your phone buzzes, signifying that your shift is over anyway. You have to leave soon, having been supposed to go to MK’s right after this shift. Since Alphys lives on the other side of town, since she actually has money, being a scientist and all, you wouldn’t be able to drop her off, get home, and go to MK’s in time. “Um, Alphys . . . I’m so sorry to kick you out like this, but, I need to leave to babysit within the next ten minutes. I’d offer a ride, but . . .”

 

“I understand,” she says, smiling. “Um . . . can you call Sans for me? I’m not sure I’m fit to drive.”

 

“Of course,” you say, before dialing the number you’ve committed to memory but haven’t yet added as a contact.

 

“____,” he says as greeting, and you can hear the way he rolls the letters of your name, drawling it like he’s singing. “what can i do for ya?”

 

“I . . . Alphys is here at the coffee shop. I need to get home soon, and I don’t have time to give her a ride since she lives on the ri- other side of town. She asked me to call to see if you could give her a ride home.”You catch yourself before you can fuck up enough. You . . . well, at first monsters had been given the poorest places to live, riddled with bugs and moldy wood. But over time, once the number of people who respected them grew, a number of them were doing great for themselves. They had a sense of dedication that humans lacked. You had seen how beautiful Toriel’s home was, and even though Undyne and Alphys’ house is humble, it’s very modernized and . . .yikes. You really don’t fit in here. You didn’t even finish college.

 

“okay,” Sans says. If he noticed your slip-up, he doesn’t mention it. You doubt he even cares. “yeah, i’ll be there in five.”

 

“Great, thank you, Sans.” You say goodbye and he hangs up. You turn to see Alphys looking intently at your paintings, the rivers and the trees. 

 

“You can look through them if you want,” you tell her. “They’re mainly the view you see out the window, but there are a few others. A few people, still life, etc. They’re not very good.”

 

“Are you crazy?” Alphys asks rhetorically. “They’re so pretty . . .! Do you have any for sale?”

 

The question itself blows you away. “I - no, they’re not that good. Nobody would buy them. You don’t have to pretend to like them, you know.”

 

“i doubt she’s pretending, bud,” a voice sounds, and you turn to see Sans leaning against the door. “sorry i took a little, barista was hesitant to let me in.”

 

“You said five minutes,” you respond, a confused smile on your face. “It’s been thirty seconds.”

 

“did i say five minutes? i thought i just said ‘five’. implying seconds.”

 

“I . . . I’m not even going to question that.”

 

—

 

“Are you kidding?” You ask the air around you. “No, _ugh,_ this isn’t happening.”

 

You’re in the front seat of your Wrangler, fingers anxiously dancing across the steering wheel. It won’t start.

 

“Baby,” you coo, as if it will listen to you. “Princess, sugar, love of my life. Please. Please, please, please. I need to be there like, right now.”

 

The car doesn’t seem much for conversation.

 

Of course, getting a model that was probably as old as you had it’s downfalls, as this happened rather frequently. But you loved this car as if it was your child, and . . .

 

Shit. Looks like you’re taking the bus. You call Papyrus, because he’s always been the type to call instead of text. (Also known as: he has a habit of typing so fast he cracks his phone) 

 

“HELLO, HUMAN!” He chirps. “WE HAVE JUST LEFT FOR THE GREASE TRAP YOU ALL CALL GRILLBY’S. DO YOU NEED ASSISTANCE?”

 

“No, I’m fine, Pap,” you insist. “I just, well, my car’s not starting, so I’m going to have to take the bus, okay? I might be a few minutes late because I’ll have to walk a little, so I thought I’d let you know.”

 

“OKAY, FRIEND, THAT IS - WAIT, WAIT, SANS IS STEALING THE PHONE, HUMAN, I AM LOSING CONTACT -“

 

“no,” Sans says. “what’s your address?”

 

“I, excuse me?”

 

“you’re not taking the bus. not when you’ll be getting back when it’s dark and there are murderers around.”

 

“I - You - You don’t _own me_ , Sans.”

 

A sigh echoes through the receiver. “i’m not saying that. look, do you watch the news?”

 

“. . .No?”

 

“a human got beat to shit for befriending monsters three nights back. not gonna let that happen to you.”

 

_Oh._ You relay your address to him. “I’m in the parking lot, anyway. Sorry to be a burden.”

 

“shut up.”

 

“Okay.”

 

-

 

“No, punk, listen to me. Humans don’t do a lot of good things, uh, no offense - “

 

“Literally none taken,” you agree. “Humans suck. Continue.”

 

“ - but fries in milkshakes are _delicious._ ” Undyne declares, having ordered two things of fries - one for dunking and one for eating plain. What a champ. “And you’re saying you’ve never tried it?”

 

“Wouldn’t the salt get in the milkshake?” You ask. “Then I would have a salted chocolate milkshake, and that’s not what I ordered.”

 

“everybody likes salted caramel,” Sans provides unhelpfully.

 

“I CAN’T BELIEVE YOU DUNK A GREASY FOOD IN A SUGARY FOOD,” Papyrus declares. “THAT’S SO MANY CALORIES! UNDYNE, I CAN’T BELIEVE THAT YOU EAT LIKE THIS. WHAT ABOUT HEALTHY LIVING?”

 

“Are you implying that I wouldn’t be able to lift you and throw you across the room right now?” She demands. “I can bench press seven children. Fries and a milkshake won’t change that.”

 

“You didn’t have a problem with the pizza we had last week at your house,” you say. “Or the ice cream we got over the weekend! What’s the deal with Grillby’s?”

 

“PIZZA IS VERY HEALTHY,” Papyrus says. “IT IS MADE OF TOMATOES, WHICH ARE A FRUIT, CHEESE, WHICH IS A DAIRY, AND DOUGH, WHICH IS A GRAIN. THAT’S VERY WELL-ROUNDED.”

 

Undyne cackles and high-fives him.

 

(Three weeks later, when it’s just you and Alphys hanging out, since Undyne got called into work, she tells you that Papyrus hates Grillby’s so much because Sans used to spend all of his time there. That Papyrus felt like Sans didn’t love him anymore. Alphys tells you how Papyrus and come to Undyne’s door sniffling, saying that he wanted his brother to care about him again.

 

“That’s so sad,” you say. “It seems so obvious that they love each other now.”

 

“They’ve both changed as people,” Alphys says. “Sans was so broken up when . . . when . . .”

 

“When . . .?” You prompt.

 

“It’s nothing. N-not my story to tell.”)

 

“HUMAN,” Papyrus interrupts himself. “ARE YOU DOING ANYTHING AFTER THIS DINNER?”

 

“I . . . no,” you say. “Not that I know of. Why do you ask?”

 

“WELL, YOU HAVE BEEN TO ALL OF OUR HOUSES, YES? BUT WE HAVEN’T BEEN TO YOURS. THOUGH I DID SEE THE OUTSIDE OF IT TODAY, AND IT IS VERY BIG.”

 

You laugh. “That’s because I live in an apartment building, buddy. I only own a few rooms in there, and other people live in other parts.” But then it sinks in what he’s asking when Undyne kicks him, loudly whispering that he couldn’t just invite himself over. “Oh, um, you guys can come over if you want. It’s pretty run-down though, not like the houses that you guys have. You don’t mind that, right?”

 

“O-of course not!” Alphys insists. “We couldn’t care less if you lived in an a-a-apartment, or a castle, or a dumpster.”

 

“Aw, thank you,” you say politely. “Eh, what the heck. You guys want to come over?”

 

“YES!”

 

“Yes!”

 

“sure.”

 

“Y-yeah!”

 

“Sounds good to me.”

 

-

 

“So, um, this is my apartment,” you gesture around, uncomfortable. Maybe they won’t notice the way that only one of the four kitchen lights works, or the fact that there’s a stain on the living room floor that was there before you even got the place, or that the walls are so old they have peeling floral wallpaper. Who even has wallpaper anymore?

 

“ . . . Do you guys want anything to drink? Eat?” You ask. “I think I need an Irish coffee.” 

 

“What’s an Irish coffee?” Undyne asks. “Also, can I sprawl across your couch? Because I kind of want to sprawl across your couch.”

 

“Go for it,” you say. “It just means it’s coffee with alcohol in it. Not enough to get you drunk or anything, but, like, for taste.”

 

“I want one!” The fish monster declares from where she’s already sprawled on your couch. The others give requests for what they want to drink (water, ketchup, soda) before sitting more politely on your other pieces of furniture. 

 

You get the drinks together pretty quickly, being a barista and all, and do your best to write Undyne’s name in the foam, but your handwriting’s never been the best since your hands shake. You don yours with the simplistic leafy design that you learned almost immediately after working at the coffee shop.

 

Undyne cackles when she sees hers, and you feel oddly proud of yourself as you reach for the Cards Against Humanity box on your shelf, right next to Monopoly and Clue. “Okay, none of you guys have played this, right? What about Apples to Apples?’

 

“Nope,” everyone choruses. 

 

“Okay, so basically . . .” you give a brief explanation, but since you’re shit at explaining things everyone just looks more confused. You end up just telling them that they will pick it up as you go along, which they do.

 

(“Okay guys, the card is ‘I’m not going to lie, I despise [blank]. There, I said it,’” you read out.

 

“U-u-um, e-e-erectile dysfunction?”

 

You laugh to the point of tears. Sans is looking at you like you’re something he’s never seen before.)

 

—

 

Friday morning, you wake up at six even though you’ve requested a vacation day since your brother is coming in. When your boss had gone to check if you had any free, he had told you that you could take the whole week off, and you had accepted.

 

As you’re drinking your coffee, your phone buzzes.

 

from: papyrus

SANS IS ACTING VERY STRANGE TODAY. IN A BAD WAY.

 

from: papyrus

WILL YOU MAKE HIM A GOOD COFFEE TO BOOST HIS SPIRITS?

 

to: papyrus

I’m not working today, so sure! Should I bring it over to your house later?

 

from: papyrus

NOW WOULD BE PREFERABLE. IM AFRAID HE’S GOING TO DISAPPEAR ACROSS TIME AND SPACE AGAIN.

 

…

 

What?

 

Could he . . .

  
Was he . . .

 

Were you . . .

 

the same?

 

—

 

to: brother

What time do you think you’ll be here?

 

An hour passes.

 

from: brother

lol im about to walk in come down so the doorman knows im not a murderer

 

to: brother

WHAT THE FUCK WHY DIDNT YOU GIVE ME ANY WARNING

 

You bolt to the door, television show forgotten and still playing. You live on one of the higher floors, but even though the elevator would definitely be faster you’re too busy trying not to stumble over your feet as you sprint down countless flights of stairs. When you finally make it to the ground floor, you look up to see a very-confused looking doorman and, and, and -

 

“Well, hello,” he says.

 

And for the first time in a long time, you’re home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Straw poll #1: I've been privately messaged that I'm apparently copying other stories (that I never even read lol) with the brother storyline. Should I change this?  
> Link to this: http://strawpoll.me/6895575  
> Straw poll #2: Should I explain the "twist" in a chapter that I have already planned out for the next chapter, or should I post that chapter after the reader character reveals this twist to another character?  
> Link to this: http://strawpoll.me/6895594
> 
> follow me on tumblr: jonnedsnow


End file.
